Upon the Reaper's Call
by Retro Soul
Summary: A series of chapters written from the perspective of Death. Each chapter will feature a different character's final moment's as Death prepares to take them away. Chapter one: Beth/Daryl. Chapter two: Mika & Lizzie/Carol. Chapter three: Jessie/Rick.
1. Beth - Daryl

**A series of chapters written from the perspective of Death. Each chapter will feature a different character's final moments as Death prepares to take them away. Chapter one: Beth**

UPON THE REAPER'S CALL

 **So, just as the description states, this story will be told from the point of view of the personification of Death (picture the Grim Reaper if that helps you). Each chapter will be devoted to the death of a character from the Walking Dead. Death will be addressing someone other than the character that is dying, most likely the person who killed them or the person who was most affected by their death. Reviews are greatly appreciated.**

 **Chapter One: Beth**

 **Character being addressed: Daryl**

It was so quick. So fast. One minute you were laughing, drinking, watching the moonlight dance in her eyes. Her big blue eyes, so perfect that it seemed they had to be a gift from God. Even if you didn't believe in God, you believed in miracles. But, as a side effect, you had to believe in me too.

I was all around you, almost on you, every step you took. Every day you were alive, was just another day that you got away from me. Even before the world went to hell, I was close to you. I knew your name well and your brother's even more so. You believed in me, alright. You had to. And you hated me for what I did to you, what I did to everyone around you. You hated that you would, one day, be forced to lay subdued in my arms. And all I could do was pity you.

But, my god, you couldn't believe how fast it happened. How fast she was able to slip away from you. You had her. You _had her_. And then, in a fit of walkers and fluttering leaves, she was gone. The same cross that she worshiped was what you saw as she sped away. For a good few hours, you were so sure that I had taken her.

But I'm not that cruel. At least, that's what I tell myself. Despite my reputation amongst humans, I try my best to be as lenient as possible. Beth had to die in the hands of those officers, that was her destiny. As much as I wish I could, I couldn't change that. A human's destiny is not my area of intervention - I cannot change it. Only prolong it. I had been especially cruel to you throughout your life. I had taken your mother, your brother, your friends. I had to wait, until you were no longer alone, to take her too.

And there she was again. In that ominous hallway, stitches embedded into her cheek. She was in your grasp again and you were so sure that, this time, you were not going to let her get away from you. If it weren't for your overwhelming trance, you'd demand who had given her those stitches on her face. So you could repay them with your fist. As she walked toward you, your fingers wrapped tightly around her shoulder, they brought her in close to you. She was back. You were so sure of it.

But it was not even a minute later that she left you again. Ran from your side, wrapped her arms around that boy. She took his place. But that was Beth. Always doing the _right_ thing. Just like that night with the swirling leaves and the rumbling car, it was all happening too fast for you to catch it. The scenario evolved so quickly that you realized, too late, that you were losing her again. Her golden hair, her narrow lips, her naive soul. Why did she have to be so _goddamn perfect_? Why did you have to love her so much? And why did she have to leave you again?

I was waiting close by. I always was. But, at this particular moment, I felt like I was looming over you, betting against myself on how hard you'd cry that night. On how much you'd hate me after I'd take her from you. Her soul was willing and ready, her body weak and fragile. I had to do it now, it was her destiny. Her youth and purity made the task challenging for me. Despite what humans think, my compassion is constantly getting in the way of my job. To take from this world and deliver to another.

"I get it now," she said. But even she didn't understand the weight of those words. She didn't even know what it was that she _got_.But that was because it was far too much to put into words. She saw me there, standing behind Dawn in my silent, haunting manner. She looked at me in the face, something humans rarely ever dare to do. She looked past the shadow of my hood and saw herself in me. Because she would become one with me in no less than a handful of moments. It was I that she had gotten.

Gunshot. The sound rang through that hallway, shaking you. Her blood sprayed like the juices from a pomagrantate, staining the floor and the walls red. Time seemed to freeze as this horrible terror fabricated. It was time for me to step forward and do what I had come for. What I had been anticipating ever since that night you first lost her.

As her body slumped to the ground, her soul swelled inside it; frightened and cold. It reached to me as I bent over for it, grasping it in my hands. She was so fragile, I was afraid to move her. But then I saw you advancing forward. Your gun was drawn, held at a steady aim, right at my head. Your face contorted with tears and pain, you couldn't see beyond the fact that she was gone. With the way you seemed to look _right at me_ , and the conviction you held your gun with, I could've sworn that you could see me.

You didn't care that Dawn's trigger had been pulled on account of her reflex. You didn't care that she was instantly regretfully; her pleas and remorseful expression meant nothing to you. You wanted her dead. And you'd be damned if you didn't get what you wanted.

In a matter of moments, I was cradling two souls in my arms, hovering above you. All of you. Tears stained your cheeks, soaked into your skin and the hair on your chin. I was expecting an open fire; for bullets to fly and for the hallway to be cleared of anything living. In short, a big clean up for me. But, to my surprise, that is not what transpired that day. Not even close. The ceasefire that was agreed upon reminded me that humans could be good. That they can put away their anger and ache to preserve the lives of themselves and others. Too many times before, humans have looked at me and accepted me. As a being such as myself, I must tell you this; there is nothing more terrifying than a human that wants to meet me.


	2. Mika & Lizzie - Carol

**Chapter 2: Lizzie and Mika - Carol**

She was like a daughter to you. Both of those little girls were. You kept them close, nestled them under your wing, as if they could fill the void you carried with you each day. The void that I left with you when I took Sophia. Not a mean bone in her body. You had said those words about her. You asked God to forgive you for letting her father touch her, for letting him lay his filthy hands on her tender skin. I heard those prayers. I heard those sobs. And I waited.

The truth was, nothing could completely fill up that crater in your chest. But those two girls came pretty damn close. With their heads full of locks and their premature smiles. Their innocence charmed you but had often scared you - innocence was like a death sentence waiting to be fulfilled. At least, in the world you now lived in. You could practically sense my presence when you looked at them. Indeed, I was waiting close by. Their time was soon. When I look at a human, I can tell how soon our encounter will be by the light of their soul. And those girls were dwindling.

For the longest of time, there was merely worrisome on your part. Worrisome when Lizzie refused to use a knife. Worrisome when Mika confessed that she could never kill another living human, regardless of their intentions. The fear set in later, when Lizzie's behaviour began to worsen. Wouldn't kill a walker. In fact, she wouldn't even fear them. The twinge of panic in your chest when you saw her playing with one of them was like none you had ever felt before. When Sophia went missing, a part of you knew she was dead. And when Lizzie showed no sign of caution or aggression towards walkers, that same part of you began to flash a red light. I was closer than ever before.

Tyreese knew. But he didn't really know. Not like you did. He had been through his own hell but understanding the psyche of young girls just wasn't his area of expertise. Sure, he saw the danger but, more often than not, his mind was in other places. He couldn't change what was happening. You couldn't change what was happening. And you became convinced that God wasn't going to change it either. Mika and Lizzie would find themselves in my arms before either of them reached the age of thirteen. But you never imagined Mika would be the first to go.

"Don't worry, she'll come back. I didn't hurt her brain!"

Mika laid behind her sister, golden hair embedded into the overgrown blades of grass. Fresh blood splattered on the curve of her neck. So young. Too young. And Lizzie looked at you with that _stupid_ , _stupid_ smile, with her own sister's blood dripping from her finger tips. No words could escape you. There was barely enough air in your lungs to heave your chest up and down in the spastic motion that it did. _What had she done?_ Before you could even collect yourself, you hand instinctively reached for the knife dangling from her hand. In that moment it was hard to tell what exactly it was you were feeling. Anger? Sorrow? Vengeful? Perhaps a dangerous mixture of the three? All you knew was that this was not how things were supposed to go. This was not how it was supposed to play out. You had been entertaining the thought of settling in that cozy farm house, with Tyreese and the girls. Raise another man's children and form some sort of family. But you should've known by now, things are never that good for too long.

In an instant, the knife was dropped and you found that this innocent little girl with blood stained hands had a gun pointed at your chest. Insisting that you wait. That her sister would turn and that you would see that, all along, she had been right. But so very wrong. It was then that you realized you couldn't defy her. Not now. You had to play along with her and her psychotic games if you didn't want to end up like Mika. So you agreed to her terms. You would wait. But only for so long.

Deciding to kill Lizzie was not an easy thing for you to do. How could you? She was like your daughter, sometimes you forgot you were not of the same blood. If only things were so easy that you could fix her. Why couldn't you _just fix her_? She was young and naïve, fresh cut from the stem of her mother. Those were the easiest flowers to manipulate. But Lizzie wasn't like other flowers. Not so easy to arrange neatly on your kitchen counter. She was the one to droop or bent the opposite way of the other flowers in the vase. Her existence posed nothing but threats. To Judith, to Tyreese, to you. What were you supposed to say to Rick when you reunited with him, without his baby? What were you supposed to tell him? You were certain you would find him again, along with the others. Regardless if you had been banished from the prison because of what you had done, Rick was your family. You couldn't let his baby girl die because you were trying to save your own. And that is why you had to kill Lizzie.

Tyreese seemed to support you in your decision, although his eyes held traces of hesitance and reluctance. You found that it didn't matter to you if Tyreese was uneasy about this. You knew what you had to do. Here you were again, repeating what you had done previously at the prison. Taking matters into your own hands and taking it upon yourself to take the life of one to save many. Even if Tyreese had offered to do it himself to spare you the heartache. You knew this had to be done, and it had to be you who did it.

"What is it?" Lizzie asked you as you led her away from the farm house. You couldn't bare to say anything just yet; every breath you took was painful. But words? You kept those reserved.

"Are you mad at me? Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" she whined as if she didn't know. You were no psychologist but you knew her behaviour and actions were not that of a sane mind. In truth, the fact that it wasn't "her fault", was the only thing that had prevented you from shoving her to the ground with a surging rage and driving your knife into her skull. Mika was just as much your daughter as Lizzie was. And she did not deserve to die the way she did.

"I love you, Lizzie." And that was the truth. Despite your anger and frustration with the whole situation, that was one thing that still rang true. You had to say it, had to let her know it before you commenced your next action. You knew you had to do this, you knew the why and the how. You just didn't know where the strength was going to come from to commit the act.

"Please don't be mad at me, I'm sorry!" She was looking at the flowers now. A reflection of herself, it calmed her. Now was the time. If you didn't do it now, you knew you never would.

"Just look at the flowers, Lizzie," you told her as you unsheathed the small hand gun from it's concealment. Never before had the piece of metal felt so heavy in your hand. You wanted to damn everything as you aimed the gun at her head of blonde hair. Damn Lizzie for putting you in this position. Damn Mika for not being able to defend herself. Damn God for making you do this. But most of all, damn yourself for taking the life of a girl that did not know better.

I hovered behind you, arms crossed but ready. Lizzie was small but would be a heavy soul to carry. I didn't judge you for what you were doing. There was simply no other solution. If it's possible to fathom, I pitied you. I really did. But then again, I take the lives of the innocent every day. I watched you suck on the insides of you cheek as you put the bullet into the back of her skull.

 _Look at the flowers, Lizzie._

Her body jerked from the impact and fell forward.

 _Just look at the flowers._

The flowers around her feet became her death bed as she collapsed, face forward onto their clean skin.

 _Just look at the flowers._

Lizzie painted the yellow petals red, tarnishing them. No one would want those flowers now. They would never be picked and admired. Like Lizzie, their bloom was cut short and they became crushed under her weight.

I listened to you sob as I bent down and pulled Lizzie's soul from the wreck that laid before you. And I will tell you, she was not of a willing nature. You blamed yourself for this, so much so that turned the barrel of that gun to your own forehead did not seem like such a horrible idea. Although, one thing is for certain. With Lizzie still alive, your light was dim, almost beginning to fade. Now that you had ridden her from her life, you shone brighter than ever before.


	3. Jessie - Rick

**Chapter 3: Jessie - Rick**

You were a man of many words. You always had been. You were one to preach a sermon of temporary hope upon a tarnished podium to all that would listen. Just like the natural leader you were, your vocabulary stretched over a vast ocean of words. But there was one, and only one, that left your lips on the multiple occasions, two in particular, that I brushed past you.

 _No._

We weren't well acquainted before the outbreak. Your name was a distant sound that I barely recognized and my footsteps were mere tip toes in the distance to you. Unlike your good friend Daryl that we both know oh so well, I had been exceptionally kind to you for the first thirty-some-odd years of your life. A pretty wife, a city life, a son who adored you. It wasn't until the world went to hell that your face was ever occurring in my journeys.

But, oh, how I hated to hear you cry. Your sobs were like none I had ever heard before, in all my years. How I hated to hear that word crawl out of your lips, dribble down your chin and drip onto the bloodied pavement.

 _No._

Because I felt like you were pleading with me, begging me to undo what I had just done. Perhaps you were. And it ripped a hole in my chest because, as much as I wanted to fix it all, I could not. As I cradled your wife's soul in my arms, I was just as helpless as you were, at the other side of the prison. It had been her choice to reach for my bitter embrace. She looked up at the ceiling of that prison with acceptance. Little did she know, she was looking deep into my putrid eyes. And once again, not much later, I brushed shoulders with you as I pulled Jessie along with me.

 _No,_ you had said.

 _No!_

Not once, not twice. Three times did you echo the word that would attempt to cripple me.

 _No._

 _Please, god, no._

But I was not god and you knew that. You knew it wasn't my fault, that I had no other choice. That is why you never asked me why or damned me in any way. You knew. What you did not know, when I took Lori by the hand and led her away from you, was that I would be back to take her reincarnation.

The thing about Jessie was that she was not _just Jessie_. You hated to think about it but you took her and had her embody your wife too. She was something new, someone that made you forget about the world that you knew. But, in that freshness that she held, she also held the ghost of the woman you once loved. Wife by title. Lori by name.

It was crazy how easy you could put the two into one. You saw her as a mommy for your baby girl, a mom for your teenaged son. A wife for your aching heart. It had been so long since you had even looked at a woman the way you looked at her. You weren't much of a believer, but on the night that your lips expressed more than words could, you prayed that god would keep her alive.

 _Please, god, let her stay._

Not for her sons, not for her friends. This prayer was for you. She was your last chance to have a wife. But god looks down upon selfishness and no sooner had your prayer gone up to the big man himself, her name was appearing on my list. There was a pain in my gut and a sigh in my breath. But I had learned long before that there was no use in trying to change it. In a few days' time, Jessie would me in my arms and I would hear that wretched word in your voice.

 _No._


End file.
